A Cry in the Dark
by becca85
Summary: On October 31, 1981, James and Lily Potter are murdered in their home. 24 hours later Harry James Potter is left on the doorstep of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. What happened in the 24 hours in between?
1. 2AM-5:30AM

**A/N: This is a work of my own imagination. While this isn't a direct sequel to my one-shot fanfic, "Revelations and Reflections," it does elaborate quite a bit more on a particular event I only briefly mentioned in that story. I tried to stay true to the events detailed in the books and/or movies, but this particular event is quite vague in its telling, so I decided to tell my own version of what I think happened. James and Lily Potter were murdered on the night of October 31. Hagrid showed up with Harry at number four, Privet Drive on the night of November 1. There are roughly twenty-four hours unaccounted for. One last thing, I wrote the Dumbledore scene(s) with Richard Harris in mind, so imagine it's his Dumbledore character instead of Michael Gambin. **

**Additionally, I have done some research into the Fidelius Charm and Avada Kedavra, and the more I read, the more contradictory information I find, so I'm done researching. For the sake of this story, I have decided that the Fidelius Charm broke when James and Lily died, which is why Hagrid was able to see and enter the house to get Harry. Also, I have decided that the force of Avada Kedavra when it deflected off Harry, not performing its intended purpose, and rebounded upon Voldemort, merely blew a hole out of the side of the nursery onto the lawn below.**

**FYI, the last section of chapter six is my shortened version of this scene from chapter one in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone. I figured it was pointless to completely include that scene, word-for-word, from the book just for the sake of completing my story. The dialogue, however, is verbatim from the chapter as J.K. Rowling wrote it.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters or ideas created by J.K. Rowling. I borrowed them for the entertainment and amusement of my audience. **

**SUMMARY: On October 31, 1981, James and Lily Potter are murdered in their home. 24 hours later Harry James Potter is left on the doorstep of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. What happened in the 24 hours in between?**

**GENRE: Drama**

**RATING: PG**

**DATE: October 3, 2012**

**::~1~::**

Hagrid stared across the wooden table to the chair where Dumbledore had just been sitting, before he had Apparated away. The sheer weight of what Dumbledore had asked him to do was still sinking into his mind.

_"Hagrid, I must ask you to do something for me. Something very important," Dumbledore had softly said across the table. "It is of the utmost secrecy and you must tell no one where you are going and what you are doing."_

_"I can do it. Whate'er yer need doin', sir, I can do it," he had eagerly answered. In these dark times, he wanted to be of some use against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his minions. He wanted to be of some use to Dumbledore in overthrowing these dark wizards and witches. He would do anything he could._

_Dumbledore had smiled weakly at him. "It needs to remain a secret, Hagrid, between you and I." Hagrid nodded furiously. "You must go to Godric's Hollow this very night. There you will find something very precious. You do not need me to tell you what it is, for it will not take you long to find it and you will know it once you see it. You must go with all speed as time is crucial. Once you have acquired your precious cargo, you must go to 4 Privet Drive in Surrey. Arrive there at eleven this night and you will find me awaiting you. I will consider your task complete upon your arrival. Do you understand the importance of this mission?"_

_Hagrid had been dumbfounded when Dumbledore related the details of the mission. It did indeed sound like one of extreme importance...and Dumbledore was entrusting it to _him_ of all people! "I won' let yer down, Professor Dumbledore, sir," he proudly replied, thumping himself on the chest._

_"I know you won't, Hagrid."_

Now that he was gone, it suddenly occurred to Hagrid that Dumbledore had appeared very pale and tired. "He's prob'ly jus' busy with Hogwarts stuff and the war. Busy man, tha' Dumbledore is," he muttered into his mug. He had been so intent on listening to Dumbledore's mission for him, that he had barely touched his drink. Recognizing the importance of getting to the Hollow as soon as possible, he drained the mug in one huge swallow. Noticing that Dumbledore had left his wine goblet untouched during their meeting, Hagrid fought a brief internal battle on whether to drink it down or not. "Can't jus' let it go ter waste. It bein' such a nice wine an' all." He picked up the delicate goblet in his massive hand and drained the contents in another solitary swallow. Placing the goblet back on the table, he was pleasantly surprised to see two galleons had appeared from underneath where the goblet had been sitting, more than enough to pay Tom for the drinks and gift him with a hefty tip.

Upon exiting the room, in his haste, he bumped quite hard into a witch passing through the room. Mumbling his apologies, he tried to hurry away so that he could get started on Dumbledore's mission, but that wasn't an easy task for a half-giant like himself. It wasn't until Minerva McGonagall forcefully blocked his passage to the exit and practically shouted his name at him, that he finally tuned back in to his surroundings.

"Sorry, professor. I didn't see yer there."

"I know that," she replied, gazing up at him. "You seem to have a lot on your mind, Hagrid. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, professor. It's somethin' I need to do by meself. I'll be leavin' now." He started to move past her again, before she held up her hand. A disapproving frown had creased her features.

"Hagrid, why don't you tell me what's going on? Wizards and witches have been acting strange all night, and I don't trust what I've been hearing. I'm not about to let you out of here to get into your own mischief, unless you tell me what you're hiding."

Hagrid's shoulders slumped down and he looked almost childlike in appearance as he sought to avoid her searching eyes and pointed questions. "I'm on a special mission for Professor Dumbledore. I can't say any more. He'll be angry wit' me if I do."

McGonagall straightened up and her face softened. She patted Hagrid on the arm and must have decided to drop the subject as her next question was, "Where is Professor Dumbledore now?" Her eyes flew past him to look in the direction he had just come from.

"I don' know, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid replied. "He Apparated out of the room as soon as we was done talkin'. He did leave me an address to meet him at tonight." Hagrid appeared unsure of whether or not to continue.

"Hagrid, you know that Professor Dumbledore trusts me implicitly. You can tell me where he is. Perhaps he can even make sense of all the nonsense going on in our world today." McGonagall seemed on the verge of pleading, but Hagrid luckily saved her from such an embarrassing position by giving her the address, though the internal conflict he battled with was great and McGonagall was almost sorry to have put him in such a position. Convinced that she would be able to figure out the exact address using her own deductive reasoning, she said, "You'd better go now. It would not do to fail in whatever mission Professor Dumbledore set for you. I'll find him and ask my questions of him directly. I'll get to the bottom of it." She patted him on the arm again and stepped aside to let him pass, watching him as he stooped to exit the Leaky Cauldron and disappearing into the late-night London throng.

**::~*~::**

Hagrid wended his way through the late-night Halloween revelers. It made no difference that it wasn't even Halloween anymore; these Muggles didn't need much excuse to celebrate anything at all. Hagrid had only gone a couple of blocks before he realized that he had no idea where he was going. He was going to Godric's Hollow, he knew that for sure, but he didn't know in which direction it lay. Stopping at a darkened intersection he looked up one street and down another. One way seemed as good as another and he chose one at random and continued walking, pointedly pushing the thought out of his mind that if he had chosen the wrong way, he would be wasting valuable time. He was silently cursing himself for not bringing his umbrella, but Dumbledore's message had been so urgent that Hagrid had left his hut in a hurry. If he had had his umbrella he was quite sure he could have figured out a way to conjure up a map to point him in the correct direction. As it was, he was going to be forced to question a Muggle for the proper direction.

Ahead of him in the darkness, he could make out a figure weaving in and out of the streetlamps, singing an Irish drinking song very loud and terribly off-key. Not quite sure that this person would be able to help him, but seeing no better alternative in the area, Hagrid hastened up the street to catch up with the Muggle.

"Ho, there!" Hagrid hollered, coming to a halt next to the man. "Perhaps you could 'elp me, sir. I'm looking fer Godric's Hollow."

Hagrid watched the eyes of the Muggle grow huge as he took in Hagrid's enormous size. He started to open his mouth in alarm, perhaps to holler out for help himself, but Hagrid backed away hastily, raising his hands to show he was not going to start any trouble.

"Sir, I need ter find Godric's Hollow. Wha' way do I go?" He was fully prepared to take off if things started to turn badly, but he desperately needed directions, so he was willing to try and make this Muggle understand him.

Instead of running away or screaming at the top of his lungs, the man pulled an amber colored bottle from his jacket pocket, squinted at the label under the dim streetlamp and exclaimed, rather loudly, "Oy! I'm neva drinkin' thisssshtuff agin." Hagrid visibly recoiled from the man's slurred speech and whiskey breath. Hagrid himself was known to imbibe on a few occasions, but he never remembered acting or smelling this bad. The man looked up at the half-giant towering over him. "Methinksssss you're a gian' giant." The man was leaning so far back to see Hagrid's face, hidden in shadow as the streetlamp was directly above him, that he was dangerously close to falling flat on his back. Hagrid moved forward, in an attempt to keep the man from falling over, but he moved too much and accidentally sent the man careening to the pavement. He leapt forward and grabbed the man's jacket in one massive hand. He yanked the Muggle to his feet, attempting to stand him up straight, all the while muttering apologies. The Muggle, in his drunken state, refused to stand up straight and swayed back and forth as he looked Hagrid up and down. "Would you likessss drink from me bottle 'ere?" He waved the bottle under Hagrid's nose, having to stand on tiptoes to get his hand that high.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was getting angry. Time was absolutely critical and between the conversation with Professor McGonagall, the wandering aimlessly around the streets of London and now this meaningless conversation with a Muggle drunk, he had already lost two hours from when Dumbledore had left him in the Leaky Cauldron. Already he could sense dawn would be upon him in the next couple of hours. Hagrid positively refused to let Dumbledore down. Turning away, he started to walk away from the drunk, seeking out another Muggle to help him, but the guy stumbled after him, calling out, "Hang on there. Where ya goin'?"

Hagrid ignored him. He kept walking and soon he had left the drunk behind, yelling curses at his "uncalled for rudeness." Hagrid had half a mind to storm back there and teach the drunk a thing or two about rudeness, but he kept firmly to his course. While he didn't have any magic at his disposal, he was of a formidable size and could knock some sense into any Muggle he came across. Fortunately he detested violence and distanced himself from such situations when he could.

After two more encounters with different Muggles, he quickly realized that the only people out and about this early were celebrators from the evening before, none of whom would be sober enough to help him. Slumping down to sit on a street bench, the worrying situation overtook him. Dumbledore had explicitly repeated that time was against them in this mission. It didn't take long for the feeling of failure to wash over him. He had already wasted three precious hours, wandering lost around London. He had no doubt that if he had picked a direction directly out of the front door of the Leaky Cauldron and just continued in that direction, he would have been out of London by now, but having no idea in which direction Godric's Hollow lay, he could have gone in the opposite direction and wasted even more time. Perhaps if he sat there for a few minutes and puzzled his predicament out, he might be able to come up with a solution and be on his way again.

The chiming of a clock alerted him to the new hour—five o'clock. The sun would start rising soon and Hagrid was no closer to his destination than he had been when he had left the Leaky Cauldron. Dumbledore had always trusted McGonagall; perhaps Hagrid should have told her where he was going so that she could point him in the correct direction. "Nothin' to be done 'bout it now," he muttered, though he perked up just a little bit. Businesses would be opening up soon and respectable Muggles would be streaming out into the streets, on their way to jobs, schools, and other activities.

He got to his feet, causing a few kids across the street who had started to cross over to his side, to scurry back to the original side. As they hurried up the street, they kept throwing curious and somewhat fearful glances over their shoulders to him before disappearing out of sight.

"Excuse me, sir," a high-pitched voice said below him. Hagrid glanced down and furrowed his brows in wonderment. There was a little, elderly Muggle man standing near him, reaching no taller than the average goblin in height. He was straining to see Hagrid's face, looming so far above him. "May I sit on the bench here?"

"O' course!" Hagrid replied cheerily. This was the first Muggle he had come across who hadn't looked as though he'd rather be bolting up the street in terror. Hagrid sat back down, making sure not to squash the little man next to him. Shifting his eyes back and forth between the ground in front of him and the man next to him, Hagrid finally got up the courage to ask his question. "Er, yer wouldn' happen to know which d'rection Godric's Hollow is, wouldja?"

The little man looked up at him curiously. "I don't believe I've ever heard of it. Is it in Britain?"

Hagrid was on the verge of nodding until he caught himself. _Was_ Godric's Hollow in Britain? With Ireland, Wales, and Scotland so close, it was perfectly reasonable for the village in question to be located in a neighboring country.

"Don't worry about it," the man said, pulling something from a briefcase located on the ground near his feet. Opening it up, Hagrid was delighted to see it was a map of the United Kingdom. The man bent over it, studying it for a few minutes, before speaking again. "Aha! Godric's Hollow. It's located just outside of Swansea in Wales and..." He paused and Hagrid waited with baited breath. "...I'd reckon it's about 180 miles west of here." Hagrid's heart sank in his chest. How was he supposed to travel 180 miles, especially when he had already lost so much time?His despair quickly turned into resolve. He would do his absolute best.

Without thinking about the obvious disparity in size, Hagrid leapt to his feet and seized the man's hand in his own, shaking it vigorously. "Thank ya, sir! Thank ya!" When he finally released the man's hand to leave, the man quickly ordered his slightly tousled appearance, before calling after Hagrid's retreating back.

"Are you going to walk all the way there?"

"I'll fig're somethin' out," he called back. "Thank yer again!" He didn't know much about Muggle transportation, but he was almost positive that it couldn't get him there fast enough for him to complete his mission.

After a mere ten minutes of walking, Hagrid was thoroughly surprised to find himself outside of the Leaky Cauldron again. A little more than three hours wasted and he was right back where he started. He was close to passing it by, but the thought that he might find something to speed his travel in Diagon Alley turned his course to the door of the bar.

"Hello, Hagrid!" Tom called cheerfully. As Hagrid was crossing the bar-room to reach the back courtyard, he was struck by Tom's cheerful demeanor. He pulled up short and eyed him suspiciously. Tom was focused on pulling something out from under the bar and Hagrid shrugged his shoulders before continuing. "Hang on there, Hagrid. I've got something for ya."

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face before he turned back to Tom. Hagrid was starting to think there were dark forces working against him, preventing him from continuing, seeking to thwart him at every turn. Tom held out a folded and sealed piece of parchment and, once Hagrid took it, he went back to his bartending duties, whistling an off-key tune that Hagrid was sure was currently a big hit on the wizard radio station.

Turning the parchment over in his hands, Hagrid was surprised to see Dumbledore's spidery handwriting on the outside. Quickly tearing it open, it was all he could do to blink back the tears coming to his eyes. He may be a little late, but he was going to complete his mission.


	2. 5:45AM-7:30AM

The force of Hagrid's sneeze was such that he hit his head quite sharply on the top of the stone mantle in front of him. Rubbing his hand over the bump that was already starting to develop, he clambered out of the fireplace with difficulty, brushing the soot off of his clothing onto the dirty floor. Once he had satisfied himself with cleaning as much soot off as possible, he turned to survey his surroundings.

It was quickly apparent that wherever he had come out, the building in which he found himself was quite abandoned. There was a heavy amount of dust on the floor and on the few pieces of furniture still around. Thick coats of grim covered the windows, blocking the slowly rising sun from illuminating the small room. A strong odor of mold permeated the damp air within the room. In the past, Hagrid had found himself in worse environments than this, but he was still eager to escape the dwelling.

Moving out of what was once a lounge, he headed for the front door. Pulling it open, he was greeted with the sight of the sun peeking over the distant horizon, slowly bathing the countryside in the soft glow of dawn. Looking pensively down the dirt pathway that led away from the house, he was relieved to find there was not a soul in sight. Despite the fact that there wasn't anyone nearby, he still closed the door gently behind him and started down the path.

Quickly striding down towards the main cluster of buildings comprising the village square, Hagrid kept his eyes and ears alert for movement. Dumbledore's letter still hadn't enlightened him as to what he was looking for, but now that he was here, he knew he would need to be wary, now that he was so close. He now had reason to believe he may not be the only one searching for whatever Dumbledore had sent him off in search of.

Reaching the village square a couple of minutes later, he paused in the center, looking carefully around him. Nothing stood out in an unusual way, though he kept standing there, as if expecting something to happen. When nothing did, he sighed and took a seat perched precariously on a low stone wall surrounding a tiny park-like setting in the village square. After a few more minutes of nothing happening, he started humming a tune, not realizing until a few bars in, that he was humming the same song the drunk had been singing in the wee hours of the morning. Annoyed that such a Muggle song had wormed its way into his brain, he quickly stifled the tune and sat in silence, occasionally surveying the buildings around him.

**::~*~::**

He had only been sitting there for about fifteen minutes when he heard it. It was so faint, he might have missed it, had the slight breeze of the early morning not brought it to his ears. It came and went for the next several minutes and Hagrid vaguely wondered why the mother's ears weren't more finely tuned to the cries of her baby. When it still went on unabated, even growing a bit in intensity, Hagrid got heavily to his feet and decided to follow the sound, wondering...thinking...perhaps it had something to do with his mission...

The crying led him away from the village square. Following it down a cobblestone paved street, lined with cottages on both sides, he continued on. At one point the crying cut off abruptly and he was left standing still, wondering if it _was_ merely a child waiting for a mother to come. He had turned and taken one step back towards the village square when the crying began again more in earnest this time. Spinning back towards the sound, he hastened forward a few steps and turned the corner. The sight that greeted him brought him to a stumbling halt, his bearded mouth dropping open in horrific shock.

Directly in front of him, a cottage stood, though it no longer resembled anything like a habitable dwelling. The entire façade that he could see was blackened to a horrible degree, as though a great fire had raged around the exterior of the house. A gaping hole had been blasted into the side of an upper room of the house, a darkened, sightless eye gazing down upon the empty street below. A small bit of rubble littered the bright green lawn below, as if ashamed that such bright color could possibly be associated with such a gruesome scene. Hagrid took a few awkward steps forward, knowing full well that he didn't need Dumbledore there to tell him that's exactly where he was supposed to be. A horrible sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he realized the crying was coming from the wreckage. Never one to stand idly by while another was suffering, he crossed the street in several giant strides, walking right up to the front door, which was no longer there. Peering cautiously inside, he saw the front door lying on its side in a narrow hallway, stubbornly blocking access to a darkened kitchen, barely visible in the gloomy interior.

Hagrid stepped uncertainly inside, wondering whether he should call out for anyone, afraid that no one would answer if he did. Hagrid was a brave soul, but everything about this situation, quite frankly, scared him. He was scared of what he would see. There was no denying the fact that a young child had been crying for at least ten minutes...and no one had tried to comfort him or her. The crying was coming from upstairs, but Hagrid froze in the entryway. Instead of rushing up the stairs, he chose to quickly search the main floor.

Now that he was standing in the front entryway of the ruined house, Hagrid's movements were cautiously planned. There didn't appear to be anyone hiding in the wreckage, but appearances had an awful tendency of turning out wrong. Hagrid glanced into the gloomy living room off of the entryway. In the light of the rising sun, struggling to penetrate the curtains covering the windows, he could see pieces of candy littering the floor and a pale blue blanket, haphazardly hanging off of the sofa. A camera had apparently fallen onto the coffee table as some batteries had popped out and were lying carelessly next to the camera. A small toy broomstick was lying on the floor in front of a wooden chair that had fallen on its side.

Suppressing a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the autumn air, Hagrid turned away from the room. His attention caught by the dark kitchen at the end of the hallway, he took a few steps forward, bending down to pick up the front door from out of the way and standing it up against the wall so that he could pass it. The crying continued upstairs, and Hagrid was very close to throwing caution to the wind and rushing to rescue the child, but his feet wouldn't carry him towards the stairs. Instead they continued forward, seemingly moving of their own volition, as Hagrid was still struggling internally about what to do.

While the living room had appeared as though something unexpected had occurred to startle the home's occupants, the rest of the rooms on the ground floor looked as ordinary as one would expect them to be. Far sooner than Hagrid expected, he was standing at the foot of the stairs. Walls on both sides prevented light from reaching up its carpeted steps, so Hagrid found himself facing the gloom and shadowy confines of the narrow staircase. He couldn't be entirely sure, but it almost looked as though something was obstructing the stairs at the very top. The crying continued unabated, though it had significantly lessened in volume, as though the child had given up on being rescued.

Hagrid took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and started up the stairs. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

Like the other rooms downstairs, the upstairs hallway, as far as one could see, was ordinary in every respect, though, to the untrained observer, some shock might have been felt at noticing moving pictures framed on the walls. Fortunately, Hagrid was a trained observer, but he paid the moving photos no attention as his eyes were glued in horror at the body lying at the top of the stairs, a resigned, though determined look frozen upon his features. His glasses were hanging lopsidedly off of his face; his dark hair was slightly mussed, as though he had just run his fingers through it, mere moments before.

Hagrid had been struck dumb, not by the fact that there was a body lying at his feet, but by _who_ the man was. James Potter, graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, mischievous troublemaker, member of the Order of the Phoenix, forced into hiding for reasons unknown to Hagrid, husband to Lily Evans...father to Harry Potter... These last thoughts spurred Hagrid into action. If James was dead...

He thundered down the hallway, his massive bulk knocking pictures off of the walls. The noise he was making now seemed to hearten the child, which he now determined was young Harry, and the crying picked up in volume.

Hagrid came to a halt at the entrance to the room where the crying was coming from. The despair he felt grew exponentially with every room he went through, but it was nothing compared to what he saw now. In almost every aspect, it looked like a nursery should...except for the giant hole in the wall that overlooked the front lawn below and the crumpled figure of Lily Potter lying on the floor in front of the crib. Hagrid didn't need to check to know that she was dead. Her fallen husband in the hallway was enough of a testament to the reality of the situation. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the child standing at the side of the crib, his chubby little fingers wrapped around the railing, his green eyes fixed upon the giant of a man now standing in the room with him. His dark hair, so much like his father's, was messy and sticking up and down every which way.

At Hagrid's entrance, he had stopped audibly crying, but tears continued to flow down his cheeks. Without saying a word, a lifted a finger to point at his mother lying on the floor in front of him, never taking his eyes off of Hagrid. Hagrid, on the other hand, just wanted to break down and cry at the scene. He couldn't bring himself to go further into the room, but he also knew he couldn't let Harry continue to stare at his mother's lifeless body. Forcing himself to move, he did, quickly lifting Harry out of the crib and holding him close to his chest.

There was nothing he could do for Lily or James, but Hagrid still felt bad about leaving them there. Looking around for a couple of blankets to cover the Potters with, he was distracted by the sound of movement on the street below him. Completely unsure of how this whole tragedy had happened without one person hearing it, Hagrid pushed the thought from his mind and instead decided that he needed to get out of there before anyone saw him. It wasn't easy for him to hide, so he needed to be far from the house when the Muggles noticed what had happened and started giving in to their curiosity.

As quietly as a man of his size could, he hurried down the hallway and down the stairs. Initially desiring to look for a back door to flee from, he was stopped by a familiar figure rushing up the lawn towards the front door.

"Sirius!" he exclaimed, shocked to see the young man approaching him.

"Hagrid! What happened here?" Sirius gasped, clearly out of breath. Due to Hagrid's large frame, Sirius didn't see Harry at first, so he pushed past the half-giant and rushed into the house, calling for James, Lily and Harry.

The questioning inquires quickly turned to cries of anguish. "Oh, no! James!" and a moment later, "Lily! No! Harry? Where's Harry? Hagrid, where's Harry?" Sirius came bounding down the stairs again, but this time he caught sight of Harry nestled in Hagrid's arm, silently watching the two men. "I'll take him, Hagrid. I'm his godfather." He held out his arms in expectation of the child.

Hagrid tightened his hold upon the boy. "Sorry, Sirius. I've 'ready got orders from Dumbledore 'bout where to take 'Arry."

Sirius didn't speak, only stared at Hagrid. Hagrid stared right back. They stood that way for several moments, before Sirius' shoulders fell in defeat. He nodded his head and held out one hand. In it was a key. "Here. Take my motorbike. It'll get you away faster. Besides, I won't need it anymore." He turned to walk away, before Hagrid stopped him.

"Sirius. I'm sorry 'bout the Potters. I know you were close to them."

Sirius turned back to Hagrid and he was surprised to see a tear falling down Sirius' cheek. "He was my best friend, Hagrid. He stuck by me when no one else did. I owe him so much." He sighed. "The least I can do now is make things right." He squared his shoulders and when he made eye contact with Hagrid again, there was a determined resolve in his eyes. "Take care of him, Hagrid. I know he's in good hands with you." Sirius turned on the spot and Disapparated away.

Hagrid stood there silently for a moment, confused by Sirius' determination to "make things right." What had he meant by that? The sound of a door slamming urged him quickly on his way. Heaving himself onto the bike, he took one last look at the house. He hoped respect would be given to the bodies of the Potters and they would be kindly taken care of. Bringing the bike to life, he hastened away up the street, away from the horror behind him.


	3. 8AM-11:30AM

Once Hagrid was sure they were far enough away from prying eyes, he guided the bike off to the side of the road, seeking privacy among a small copse of trees. He had sped away in a hurry, so there had been no time to properly situate Harry on the bike, though Hagrid had managed to keep a solid grip on the boy throughout the ride. Now that they were out of Godric's Hollow, Hagrid chose to pull over to get Harry a little more comfortable on the bike.

Once he had come to a stop, he dismounted. Not sure where to put Harry while Hagrid rigged some kind of sling to carry him, he figured they were secluded enough that the child would be safe on the ground. So that's where he placed him. Maybe he was too young or maybe he had been asleep, but the events from the night before seemed not to have had a lasting effect on him and he quickly occupied his curiosity by playing in the multicolored leaves that littered the ground around him, occasionally glancing up at the man that towered over him.

On his first glance up, Hagrid almost had a heart attack and he dropped to his knees in front of Harry. The boy's hair was still in complete disarray but the wind from the ride had messed it up in such a way that a mark upon his head that hadn't been visible before was now standing out in stark contrast to his creamy skin. Hagrid silently cursed himself, convinced that he had somehow injured the boy on the ride out of the village. He ran his thumb over it, but his anger at himself quickly turned to confusion. There was no blood. In fact, the wound didn't even feel open. And, it was curiously shaped, nothing Hagrid had ever seen before. He stood up and glanced over his shoulder, back in the direction from whence they had come. Not for the first time in the last hour did Hagrid wonder again what had happened in that house. Upon first arriving on the scene, he would have thought that James and Lily had been the only targets, but now he wondered if Harry himself hadn't been a target also. But who would want to orphan and then curse a child? Why not just kill him outright?

"If anyone 'as the answer, it's gotta be Dumbledore," he muttered. Hagrid suspected that Dumbledore had known far more than he had let on at their meeting early in the morning. While he would never presume to demand information from Dumbledore, Hagrid was hoping for some explanation about what was going on. Professor McGonagall had been right, something strange was going on in the wizarding world.

Now that Harry was busily occupied with playing in the leaves around him, Hagrid started rummaging in his deep pockets, hoping to find something he could use to make some kind of a harness to safely transport Harry to Surrey in.

Thirty minutes later, Harry was safely tucked away in an improvised winter scarf tied around Hagrid's torso and they were cruising down the highway, slowly wending their way east towards London and Surrey. Even though Sirius' motorbike could fly, even Hagrid knew it would be detrimental to fly it in broad daylight, especially when they were still so close to Godric's Hollow. Dumbledore wasn't expecting him with Harry until eleven that evening, more than twelve hours away. Hagrid had more than enough time to get there.

**::~*~::**

They had been on the road for an hour when Hagrid almost lost control of the bike trying to avoid an owl that had made a beeline towards him. Skidding to a stop, Hagrid quickly made sure that Harry was unharmed by the sudden stop. The lull of the ride appeared to have sent Harry into a sweet slumber as he was nestled comfortably against Hagrid's chest. Once he was assured that Harry was alright, he turned a glaring eye on the bird which was perched on the front of the motorcycle, picking up and setting down it's clawed feet as though anxious to be on its way. A small piece of parchment, rolled up, was attached to one leg.

Hagrid untied it and as soon it was free, the bird launched into the sky, speeding away to the east. After watching the bird until he could see it no longer, he unrolled the message.

_It's very important that you don't return to London directly. Bring your charge to Cardiff immediately._

The message was written in the familiar hand of Dumbledore. Following the message was the address where Hagrid was to bring Harry to. Folding up the parchment, he tucked it deep into his pocket. Instead of starting the bike up again, he leaned over the handlebars, eying a few of the buttons mixed in with the small gauges. One of the buttons had a tiny picture of what looked to be a map on it, though the image was so faded Hagrid couldn't be sure of it. Seeing no better option, he pressed it.

"Destination, please," a tinny female voice asked. Unsure of what he had actually been expecting, he decided to just answer the voice. He loudly stated the address that had been written on the parchment.

"Thank you," the voice responded.

Without Hagrid even turning the key, the motorcycle roared to life and started pulling back onto the highway. Not prepared at all for what just happened, Hagrid barely had enough time to secure his hold on the bars before the bike was accelerating down the highway, cruising along once it reached the speed limit. Not too much longer down the road, the bike started veering off to the right until Hagrid could see the buildings of Cardiff in front of him. The whole way there the bike had adhered to the speed limits, followed the laws of the road and remained at correct distances from its surroundings. All Hagrid had had to do was pretend he was in charge of the bike, for all intents and purposes. He had still been the recipient of numerous glances from passing motorists, but that was more likely due to his size rather than the bike that was self-directing. Another twenty minutes passed before the bike pulled up alongside a rather shabby looking, single-story house.

Hagrid pulled out the parchment and stared at it for a moment, hoping that more instructions had appeared since he last looked at it. Just as before, the message still instructed him to bring Harry to Cardiff. He tucked it back into his pocket. Why was he brought here? Was he supposed to meet someone? If so, who was it? Why couldn't he go back to London yet? But, most importantly, what had happened to the Potters?

The door to the house cracked open and an equally shabby middle-aged woman could barely be seen against the dark interior of the house. "Hagrid?" It was a question, not a statement.

He nodded and she beckoned him inside. He stood up, carefully adjusting his great coat to make sure Harry was completely covered. Even though it was Dumbledore's note that had brought him here, he was still wary of where he was. He didn't completely trust the area...or the woman. He had no idea who she was, but he suspected she wasn't who she presented herself to be.

He followed her into the house. The interior, while appearing dark from the bright outside, was actually lit with a couple of candles in wall sconces. They were in a long narrow hallway, with nary a door on either side, only one at the very end. At his present size, Hagrid could barely move an inch to the left or the right and when the woman motioned him to follow, he stayed rooted to the spot. When she finally turned around to discover why he wasn't following, she pulled a wand out of her pocket. Hagrid was defenseless against her. He didn't even have the room to turn around and flee the building. While his half-giant body was able to repel some curses and jinxes, the fact of the matter remained that Harry was still latched on to him, hidden behind a coat, but with nothing else to protect him. Hagrid started to cross his arms over his chest, to offer what protection he could when the women started to speak.

Instead of cursing them both out the front door, like Hagrid expected, nothing happened to them. However, the walls on both sides spread a little further apart, giving Hagrid enough room to walk comfortably down the hallway. She beckoned again and said, "This way." She opened the door at the end of the hallway and disappeared through. Not just continued through it where Hagrid could still see her walking away; she literally vanished once she passed the threshold.

He turned back to the front door, wondering if he should just flee and hide out somewhere until it was time to take Harry to Surrey. The front door that he had just passed through a moment before was no longer there. The only way out was through the door at the other end of the hallway. While he was still turned towards the front door that wasn't there, he checked on Harry. The boy was fully awake now, silent as could be, but looking up at Hagrid with wide, terrified eyes. Hagrid wasn't sure if Harry was old enough to understand, but he still put his finger over his closed lips, motioning for him to remain quiet. Tucking the coat back around him, he turned back to the door.

"Bes' get it over with," he muttered. Striding purposefully down the hall, he walked through the door...

**::~*~::**

...and found himself in a most unlikely place, definitely not a place he would have expected given the exterior of the house he had entered. The room he was in now was blindingly bright and very clean. Impossibly clean. There was a table in the center of the room with a very thick pad on it. It was the only piece of furniture in the room. The only other adornment was a bouquet of balloons in one corner of the room.

There was a young woman in the room, much cleaner than the woman Hagrid had followed in, but he didn't know if it was the same woman. He had never gotten a good luck at her. This woman was dressed in lime green robes and her long blonde hair hung unbound down her back. She was standing with a roll of parchment in front of another door in the room, but had looked up at his entrance.

"Please put the child on the table," she motioned with a wand towards the table in the center of the room. Hagrid took a step back. Who was she?

"Hagrid, please," a soft voice said. Coming through the door behind the young woman was Dumbledore himself. Hagrid instantly felt better at seeing him. He still cast a wary glance at the woman who stood in the room. "Her name is Elizabeth. She's a Healer from St. Mungo's, here to check on Harry. I trust her, Hagrid." The last was said with firmness. Without taking his eyes off of the older wizard, Hagrid pulled off his great coat, revealing the small child harnessed around his chest. He untied the sling and gently put Harry on the table. Having been kept quite warm by the coat and being close to Hagrid's body, Harry immediately started shivering once he was placed on the table. Not comfortable at all with the new situation, his eyes screwed up and he started to cry.

Elizabeth quickly conjured a teddy bear the same size as the boy and placed it on the table in front of him. Harry stopped crying and started playing with the teddy bear, and, as magic is wont to do, the bear started playing back. Once Harry was content, Elizabeth and Dumbledore moved closer to him, Dumbledore carefully watching the manner of the child while Elizabeth whispered spells as she walked around the table, determining what, if anything, was wrong with him. Hagrid was leaning against a wall, watching the proceedings.

A couple of minutes into the examination, Elizabeth stopped after saying a particular spell and her face registered confusion. She was standing directly in front of Harry. She repeated the spell as she pointed her wand directly at the mark on his forehead and once she had finished, she took several steps back, away from Harry. "Oh my!" she exclaimed. "That's not possible."

She looked at Dumbledore, as if seeking answers. "This boy should be dead right now."

Dumbledore cocked his head to one side, as if appraising her. "I suspect that you just discovered what I, quite possibly, already knew." Dumbledore turned to Hagrid and then to Harry. Addressing the room at large, he said quietly, "Harry Potter, at this point in time, has the distinct honor of being the only person to ever survive Avada Kedavra."

Both Hagrid and Elizabeth gasped audibly, Elizabeth placing a hand over her heart, and Hagrid staring at the boy as though he had never seen him before. Harry, however, was completely oblivious to the fact that everyone was staring at him. He had just discovered, to his great delight, that the teddy bear was ticklish.

"Please continue," Dumbledore said to Elizabeth, nodding for her to continue her examination.

She shook her head. "Except for the mark upon his head, the only reminder of his escape from death, there is nothing else wrong with him. My spells did pick up something else, a strange undercurrent of magic that I've never seen before, but I assume now that it's related to the curse."

"It is," Dumbledore replied, but he chose not to elaborate, and no one questioned him further. After another couple of minutes watching Harry play, Dumbledore turned to Elizabeth. "Is everything prepared?"

"Yes," she replied. As if that was a code word for her to be somewhere else, she disappeared through the door that Dumbledore had entered from earlier.

"Hagrid," he said. "You need to remain here with Harry. At nine tonight leave here and bring him to Surrey. By leaving at nine you should arrive there on time." Hagrid opened his mouth to speak, but Dumbledore raised his hand to silence him. "I cannot take him with me now. There are many preparations I must oversee for his future care, some of which may not place him in the safest of places, even in my care. Until tonight." Dumbledore went out through the door and a few seconds later a loud cracking sound announced that Dumbledore was gone. Elizabeth reappeared a few moments later with a large tray, filled with food.

Hagrid was about ready to fall upon the tray and start eating, not realizing until the food was placed in front of him that he hadn't eaten since the night before. He stopped a few feet from the tray and glanced uncertainly between the food thereon and Harry who had also looked up from where he was playing at the arrival of the food. Hagrid turned, embarrassed, to Elizabeth. "I'm sorry, I— I don't know—" he stammered, but she waved away his concern.

"I've got just the thing for him." She pulled a small, covered bowl off of the tray and took it over to Harry. Pulling a spoon out of a pocket, she went to work feeding the mashed foods to him, while Hagrid started digging in to the food on the tray.


	4. 12:30PM-3PM

An hour later, Elizabeth had given them a tour of the house, pointing out a playroom that Harry could use while they were there, including a crib in the corner that he could nap in. She showed them where to find food and where Hagrid himself could nap. She explained that she needed to return to St. Mungo's for an afternoon shift, but she would return before they had to leave.

Hagrid had appeared uncomfortable at being left alone in the house with Harry. Dumbledore had confirmed his suspicion that someone had tried to kill Harry and Hagrid was worried that they would try again. Hagrid had no means to defend them. Elizabeth lessened but didn't quite dispel his worries by saying that Dumbledore had already prepared the house with the best charms and spells at his disposal. Short of being Unplottable, no one would be able to locate the two of them.

Hagrid was now alone with Harry. He was sitting on the floor of the nursery, watching Harry play with the toys scattered across the floor. He had immediately latched on to a little toy broomstick that could fly him around the room, at a safe distance above the floor. As Hagrid watched him, he remembered seeing something very similar that morning when he had pulled Harry out of the wrecked Potter house. _Was it just that morning that everything had happened? _It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Harry continued to zoom around on his broomstick, occasionally bumping into Hagrid's massive frame. Hagrid just laughed it off and Harry usually laughed as well and went off again. Hagrid was quite sure that if he removed every other toy from the room, Harry would still be absolutely smitten with the broomstick.

As Harry continued playing, worry started setting in again on Hagrid, not worry about their location being found and someone coming to murder them. No, he was worried about caring for Harry. Hagrid had no children, though he sometimes considered the beasts he cared for his children. But young thestrals and hippogriffs required significantly different care than a human child. For one of the few times in his life, Hagrid felt out of his league. Elizabeth had told him how to change dirty diapers, what kind of food to feed him, approximately what time he should take a nap, and a variety of other tidbits that Hagrid had intently listened to, but now that he was alone with Harry, he found he severely was lacking in confidence in caring for him.

Satisfied that Harry was content for the moment and that there was nothing in the room that he could possibly get into trouble with, Hagrid heaved himself to his feet and started to leave the room. The slight whooshing noise that the broomstick had been making suddenly stopped and Hagrid turned to see Harry had come to a complete stop when he saw that his companion was leaving. Hagrid encouraged him to continue playing, saying he was going to be right back. Harry decided it was time to discard the broomstick and instead started playing peek-a-boo with teddy bear he had been given to play with earlier.

Hagrid quietly left the room, leaving the door cracked behind him as he left. He didn't know why he left the room except that he partly wanted to stretch his legs, but he also couldn't bear to keep watching Harry play. Every time Harry's face was towards him, Hagrid couldn't help but trace the scar with his eyes. And every time he did, he felt incredible remorse and guilt. Granted, there was nothing he could have done to save the Potters, he hadn't even known it was happening at the time, but he still felt like he should have done something. Now a little boy, barely able to comprehend what had happened to him, was orphaned forever.

Something Elizabeth had said earlier, just before leaving, resurfaced in his mind: _It's a little unusual that he hasn't asked for his parents. I wonder if even some small part of him understands what happened. Poor Harry. _Poor Harry, indeed! Did his one-year-old mind understand that his parents were never coming back? That he was all alone in the world? Well, not alone completely. He did still have Sirius, his godfather.

Hagrid had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. What had been the examination room when he arrived had transformed into a very simple lounge. On a side table were a couple of copies of the Daily Prophet. Hagrid leaned over to pick them up, hoping that one of them at least would shed some light on the events in the wizarding world. The top copy was over two weeks old. Hagrid had already read that one. Sorting through the pile he found another from ten days past, one from eight days, one from three days past and the last from the previous morning. Hagrid had read all except the last and so he pulled it out of the stack before setting the others aside.

The headline, emblazoned across the front page, declared that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been sighted. Hagrid quickly read through the article, rather alarmed that, not only had he been sighted, but he had been sighted not twenty miles north of London. Most of the article was rubbish, exaggerated eyewitness accounts from the couple of wizards that had spotted him, speculation on where he was going, opinions on what his followers were up to; basically a lot of nonsense that was made up or embellished in order to sell copies. The rest of the newspaper wasn't any more informative. With the events at the Potter cottage very late the previous evening, Hagrid was quite anxious to read the current day's newspaper, knowing without a doubt that more information could be had from it. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be found.

As if the very act of desiring to see it was enough, a rolled up newspaper shot out of the fireplace and neatly onto the side table where the other newspapers had been. Now that it was here, Hagrid was afraid to open it. What news would it really contain? With trembling fingers, he picked it up and untied the string around it.

Right across the front page in large, bold letters was "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Has Been Vanquished At Last!" Hagrid gasped and almost dropped the newspaper in surprise. _You-Know-Who is gone? Forever?_ It sounded much too good to be true. He read the rest of the front page and almost tore the paper in two trying to find the rest of the article. When he had finished, he collapsed onto a sofa, completely obliterating the frame and leaving him in an awkward position on the floor, but he couldn't bring himself to move. The Daily Prophet had brought both good news and terrible news.

The good news: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been destroyed. Quotes, facts, eyewitness reports—everything supported it and, for once, everything mentioned supported everything else mentioned. The terrible news: it had all happened in the Potter cottage. Opening to where the article continued, Hagrid had been surprised to see a large photo of the destroyed Potter home that took up an entire half a page. Several members of the Ministry of Magic were shown out front interrogating other wizards, Muggles and swapping notes with each other on what they had learned. A few were visible in the background, crawling over the wreckage, inspecting every last detail. The whole scene made Hagrid sick. Until that moment, he had never entertained the idea that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had personally been there. He had thought that Death Eaters had been sent to do the dirty work, but not _him_. A chill ran down his back. _He_ had been there...only hours before Hagrid himself. Right in that very house.

Something Elizabeth had noticed that Dumbledore had confirmed earlier came back to him: _Harry Potter, at this point in time, has the distinct honor of being the only person to ever survive Avada Kedavra._ What possible threat could a child be to the greatest dark wizard of their time?

A giggle brought him back to his present surroundings. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Harry had crawled out of the nursery and down the hall to the lounge. He had pulled himself up to a sitting position and was looking at the mess on the floor and giggling, his chubby hands clapping gleefully. Hagrid couldn't help but smile at the boy; his laughter was quite infectious. Harry leaned forward, preparing to drop to all fours to crawl closer, but he leaned back, a yawn encompassing his entire body as his fists rubbed fiercely at his eyes. When the fit was passed, he looked at Hagrid, tiredly trying not to yawn again.

Elizabeth had said something about feeding him some lunch and then putting him down for an afternoon nap. It was probably close to that time, though Hagrid couldn't readily see a timepiece in the room. He heaved himself to his feet and reached down to pick Harry up. He looked embarrassedly at the sofa, broken on the ground. Sometime he forgot just how much bigger than a human he was. Unsure of what he should do with the mess, he opted, for the moment, to just leave it there while he attended to Harry.

**::~*~::**

An hour later, Harry was standing in his crib, eyeballing Hagrid warily across the room. Lunch had been an adventurous affair. Much of the food Elizabeth had pointed out for Harry had ended up anywhere but Harry's mouth. Hagrid already felt bad enough about the broken sofa; add to that the food-splattered kitchen and Hagrid was starting to think he was doomed to destroy much of the house.

Getting Harry changed into clean clothing had also been a grand adventure. Even now, as Hagrid stared back at Harry, he was quite positive that something wasn't right about his attire but he couldn't put his finger on it. He gave up after a couple of minutes, convinced that raising children would never be his lot in life.

Elizabeth had told him when the time came for a nap, to just put Harry in the crib and leave the room, saying he would probably cry himself to sleep, which was normal. However, when that time came and Hagrid started out of the room, Harry screwed up his eyes and started bawling so loud, Hagrid was sure the neighbors would come running. He had come back into the room and stood over the crib, waiting while Harry's eyes steadily grew heavier and heavier. When his eyes had been closed for a couple of minutes, Hagrid had turned away to leave, but once he had reached the door, the crying came again. Turning around, he saw that Harry was standing up in his crib, watching Hagrid leave, tears streaming down his young face. Hagrid hadn't the heart to just leave him there, so he closed the door in front of him and sat down on the floor, across the nursery from Harry. The two locked eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, surprisingly, Harry was still standing at the side of the crib, staring at Hagrid, probably to reassure himself that the big man wasn't going to leave him again. He had yawned quite a few times, rubbed his eyes a few times, but he refused to lay down again. It had been a quarter-to-three when Hagrid had brought Harry into the nursery for his nap and he estimated now that at least thirty minutes had gone by. As tired as the boy was, he was stubbornly refusing to give in to nap time now.

As he continued to watch Harry, Hagrid could feel his own eyes growing heavy. _Wait a sec'nd! I'm not the one in need of a nap!_ He struggled to keep his eyes open, but every time he focused them on Harry, the boy gave a rather empathic yawn and it just made Hagrid even more tired. Within a few more minutes, all thought of Harry had drifted from his mind as he surrendered himself to sleep.


	5. 8:30PM-9:10PM

Several hours later, Hagrid woke with a start. Something had startled him, though his foggy mind couldn't immediately grasp what it was. He shook his head violently as though that would dissipate the fog faster. His head snapped up as he realized something. _Harry!_

When he had fallen asleep, the room had been brightly lit with sunlight streaming through a window, but now he could see only darkness outside. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled over to the crib, grasping the side. As dark as it was, Hagrid could definitely see that Harry wasn't in the crib. "'Arry!" he shouted. He launched himself across the room and yanked open the door...only to find Elizabeth standing there looking rather alarmed. Hagrid started stumbling over his words, trying to make her understand that Harry was gone. She held up her hands to silence him.

"Ssssh, Hagrid! You'll wake the neighbors. Harry is perfectly fine." That simple declaration stopped him right in the middle of his rambling, his mouth hanging open in mid-word. "He's playing in the lounge. You were both sleeping soundly when I came home, though Harry woke up about an hour later. From what I understand from Albus, you had a very long night last night and I suspect another long one tonight. I figured you could use the rest."

He nodded, still trying to convince his rapidly beating heart that Harry was safe, though he wouldn't entirely accept it until he actually saw the boy with his own eyes. Trying not to offend Elizabeth by pushing past her to run check on Harry, he tried to casually slide pas her, deflecting any anxiousness by asking for the time. The darkness had him worried. Dumbledore was expecting him tonight and he wanted to make sure he wouldn't be late.

"It's half-past eight."

He whipped around to look at her, hoping she was playing a cruel joke. If he didn't leave immediately, they would arrive late. The darkness of the hallway prevented him from getting a good look at her, but he suspected she was telling the truth. She had no reason to lie.

They arrived in the lounge and Hagrid was happy to see Harry was playing with some simple Muggle toys (blocks that weren't imbued with magical power to move of their own volition). Harry looked up at their entrance and waved one chubby fist at Hagrid before going back to playing. Hagrid was also surprised to see the sofa was back in one piece again. He turned to Elizabeth, but she must have suspected the question was coming. "Not to worry! Nothing a good wand wave couldn't fix. The kitchen is back to normal as well." She sighed and looked over at Harry. "He's been amusing himself with those blocks for the last couple of hours. Sometimes I think those Muggles may be on to something in some of their contraptions." She shook her head and continued, "I shall miss him. He's such a sweet little boy. I expect he's going to have a hard life, being raised as an orphan. But, perhaps not." She turned back to Hagrid. "The news has spread throughout the wizarding world. Everyone knows You-Know-Who has been defeated and his downfall came about in the Potter home. Albus placed me in the strictest confidence with the arrangements today, but Harry's survival has still circulated around Britain. He's already famous and his fame will only continue to grow."

Hagrid was glad for the little bit of information she provided. With such events as had transpired in the last twenty-four hours, the Daily Prophet article from only a few hours earlier was already old news. The only mention Harry had had in the article was that his body hadn't been found in the house with his parents'. He nodded at her, grateful for the news. "We'd bes' be goin'," he said, "Gotta schedule to keep." He bent over to pick Harry up, but Harry was quite reluctant to go anywhere and he squirmed his way out of Hagrid's grasp. Hagrid was prevented from trying again when Elizabeth laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Let him play for a few minutes more while I pack you both a little something for the journey. He's already had some supper, but I suspect a small treat or two might keep him manageable while you transport him to your destination. It'll only take a few minutes." Refusing to listen to any protests, she bustled into a back room and Hagrid was left alone with Harry once again. Harry was pointedly ignoring Hagrid now, as if by refusing to acknowledge his presence he might be left alone to continue playing. There was nothing for Hagrid to do except wait. He had no belongings to collect or things to put in order, so he leaned against the wall in the sitting room, his eyes fixed upon the pile of Daily Prophets he had rifled through earlier. What would tomorrow's headlines bring? Would he even be in a position to read them?

Elizabeth came back into the room, a small knapsack tucked under arm as her hands busily prepared a bottle of warm milk for Harry. She quickly handed the knapsack to Hagrid who stuffed it into one of his many pockets. She picked Harry up and, unlike when Hagrid had attempted to do so, he came to her readily, probably owing to the bottle she had in her hands. Instead of passing him off to Hagrid, she sat down on the repaired sofa and started feeding him his milk. "I have no idea how you would feed him on that motorbike of yours, so it's best not to try. It'll only take a few minutes and hopefully he'll fall asleep while on the road."

Ten minutes later, Hagrid was sitting astride the motorbike, a drowsy Harry carefully bundled up in some blankets and arranged in the sling around his chest. He thanked Elizabeth again and then brought the engine roaring to life. The sudden noise startled Harry and he started whimpering against Hagrid's chest. Elizabeth reached out to gently rub the child's back, quietly reassuring him with her soothing voice. He quieted back down, but his eyes were wide and alert, as if he knew that, by being out of doors again, they were once again in possible danger. Elizabeth stepped back and motioned for them to go on. Hagrid could see a sparkle in her eye, a tear she was trying to keep in check. He didn't blame her for he also had a heartfelt fondness for the young orphan himself. It was going to be hard saying goodbye. He wasn't going to try and fool himself; he knew he would have to say goodbye to Harry before the night was over. Hagrid pulled away from the sidewalk and took up a position coasting down the middle of the road. He would have to wait until he was out of the city before he attempted to take to the skies.


	6. 9:45PM-11:45PM

Hagrid cursed the motorbike for the third time in the last five minutes. He had left Cardiff fifteen minutes ago and his first attempt to launch the bike into the air not only met with failure, but caused the bike to stall completely. It had caught Hagrid so completely by surprise that he had barely managed to retain control of the bike. He guided it to the side of the road and climbed off. His expertise was more in the area of beast control, but this "mechanical" beast was an enigma to him. He stood staring over it, oblivious to what he could do to make it work.

A quick peek inside his jacket had showed him that Harry was still awake, but his eyes had reverted to the drowsiness they had exhibited earlier. He was definitely fighting sleep and Hagrid's sudden movements were certainly helping him stay awake. Shrugging his shoulders, he climbed back onto the bike and turned the key, hoping the bike would at least start. He wasn't to be disappointed, though a push of the button that was supposed to launch the bike into flight failed him again. Luckily, the engine didn't stall, so Hagrid had just decided to continue on in the Muggle fashion.

Now, he was once more stopped on the side of the road. He had punched the flight button every couple of minutes, hoping it would finally kick in but it never did. However, the bike had stalled again and now Hagrid was standing over it again, wishing briefly that Sirius was there with him to tell him how to fix it. A flying motorbike, even in the wizarding world, was a rare find and Sirius had been just intrigued enough with the Muggle contraption to enchant it in a way that it would function in both societies. Hagrid didn't have that knack and hadn't even a clue about who else could help him. The best he could hope for was that it would eventually start working, preferably before it killed him and Harry with its sudden loss of power.

Another quick peek showed him Harry was awake, but he had a sneaking suspicion the boy had actually been asleep before their unscheduled stop. He was only a little bit east of Newport and, having studied a map while at Elizabeth's home, he suspected he had still had well over an hour to go. He hated to admit it, even if there was no one to presently admit it to, but he was going to be late. He supposed he should be content to complete his mission at all, especially after everything he'd learned, but he still felt that he was going to let Dumbledore down in some fashion. Of course, his estimate of getting there in under two hours was strictly according to the bike's ability to fly. If it wasn't going to fly, it would be much longer if he had to go by Muggle roads.

He heaved a great sigh and got onto the bike again. It roared to life under his massive frame, and he pulled back onto the highway. After a few moments, his finger stabbed out unconsciously and hit the button again. The bike lurched suddenly, alarmingly, and Hagrid tightened his grip on the handles, ready to coast to the side as he prepared for the bike to stall, yet again. Instead, the bike lurched forward again and then it slowly reared up onto the rear wheel before lifting giant and child into the air. Unprepared, but elated at the outcome, Hagrid turned the bike on a more southerly course, foregoing the Muggle highway he had been following and turned out over the Bristol Channel. Once he had lined up with the distant lights of Bristol, he put his hand in his jacket to make sure Harry was safely harnessed to him. It wouldn't do to go to all of this trouble only to drop him in the Channel.

**::~*~::**

Ten minutes later, Hagrid touched the bike down just outside of Bristol. He knew it was risky, because he might not be able to get it up again, but there had been a moment of terror out over the water when the bike had actually sputtered and Hagrid had noticed a slight loss of altitude. The moment he had regained dry land, he quickly looked for a place to land. Not much scared him, but that split second when he thought they were doomed to a watery grave had done the trick. He didn't want to take any chances, but he knew he was going to have to in order to get into London, at this point, before midnight.

Hagrid opened his jacket and looked down at Harry, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He had clearly been woken from a peaceful slumber, but if Hagrid was careful not to move him too much, he was sure he would fall right back to sleep and stay asleep for the duration of the journey, barring any emergencies. Hagrid tightened the sling, securing Harry closer to his chest. Pulling the jacket closed again, he got back on the bike.

He started the engine, and screwing up his eyes in wishful concentration, he pushed the button again.

**::~*~::**

_In Surrey..._

"Hagrid's late," Dumbledore mumbled, checking his golden pocket watch. He slipped it quietly back into his robes and scanned the heavens again. Professor McGonagall sighed heavily next to him. Dumbledore pointedly ignored the implication. He knew very well that McGonagall was questioning his judgment in allowing Hagrid to handle this very important task, but she didn't know what he knew about Hagrid. Now was not the time nor the place to go down that road. He merely stated, with a tone that would allow no argument, "I would trust Hagrid with my life." McGonagall snorted in reply. She didn't need to say anything.

Any further conversation was interrupted by the loud rumbling of a mechanical engine. McGonagall tensed up beside Dumbledore, her eyes sweeping the street. She had been sitting here all day long and, while she hadn't the benefit of extensive knowledge, she was quite sure this was not the type of neighborhood to get any traffic this late at night. The mere sound of an engine drawing closer was beginning to alarm her.

Dumbledore was also looking up and down the street, his brow furrowed in concentration. While the noise was drawing steadily closer, there was still no evidence of what was creating it. Dumbledore had his hand in his robe, preparing to withdraw his wand when a light pierced the darkness, not from the ground, but from the sky.

A motorbike roared out of the heavens, it's single spotlight on the front illuminating the ground beneath it. It hit the ground, a little more harshly than its driver clearly was intending. It skidded to a stop in front of the two bystanders and the light turned off, allowing Dumbledore and McGonagall to see the giant sitting astride it.

Hagrid definitely looked a little worse for wear. His hair, which was normally unruly, had been made even more so by the wind whipping through it. His arms showed some minor burns, but nothing that appeared to give him any trouble. What gave McGonagall's heart the biggest jump was that she could see nothing even remotely resembling a child anywhere on or around the bike. She looked worriedly at Dumbledore and was surprised to see that he didn't look at all troubled by this glaring omission from the picture. She swallowed her worries as Hagrid stepped off the bike and greeted them by name. While she didn't always agree with Dumbledore's methods and way of doing things, she couldn't deny that he always seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

Hagrid quickly covered the short distance between them and pulled open his jacket. Inside, strapped to his chest was a bundle of blankets. McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief. They quickly unharnessed the baby from his massive torso and Hagrid held him protectively in his huge arms. McGonagall looked down at his peaceful face, slumbering contently. She smiled in spite of herself. She had never had children—never even gotten married, in fact. It's not like the opportunity had never presented itself, though. Now, looking down at Harry's sleeping form, she was plagued with what might have been. She shook her head as she looked up, away from Harry. She had made her choice. Not once, but several times. She would do it all over again if she had to.

Dumbledore moved forward, seeking to gently coax the baby out of Hagrid's arms. Hagrid looked shocked at having to part with the young child, even though he knew it had been inevitable. Once the baby was safely in Dumbledore's arms, Hagrid started sobbing, loud, raucous sobs that shook his entire body and, to a lesser degree, the windowpanes of the house they were in front of. McGonagall drew herself up to her full height, trying to be intimidating to the half-giant standing next to her—certainly not a mean feat. "Shhh! You'll wake the Muggles!"

Hagrid did an impressive job of stifling his sobs, but the noise he continued to make was still too loud for her liking. They watched as Dumbledore stepped up to the doorstep and place Harry gently on the welcome mat, tucking a letter safely inside his blankets. The child turned in his sleep, his hands unconsciously reaching out for...something...before settling back down, his sleep remaining undisturbed. Dumbledore quietly stepped back to where his companions were waiting and they watched the scene for just a moment more. Dumbledore was the first to make a move. "We might as well go and join the celebrations." He motioned for them to disperse. Hagrid blew his nose in a giant handkerchief he had pulled from his jacket pocket before stuffing it back inside. Thinking he should probably find Sirius to return his bike, he clambered back onto it, wondering if it would actually launch him into the sky or if he would be forced to continue on the ground, though now that he was so much closer to London, staying on the ground wouldn't be such a problem. The engine roared to life and he halfheartedly pressed the familiar button. With an ease that it hadn't shown since he had left Godric's Hollow, it lifted into the air and soon he was gone from sight, with only Dumbledore and McGonagall to watch his passing.

McGonagall was surprised to find her own cheeks a little moist from tears she hadn't been aware she was shedding. She rubbed the sleeve of her robe over her face, quickly banishing any existence of her momentary weakness from visible eyes, but she knew nothing ever escaped Dumbledore's notice. He pretended not to notice, only saying, "I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall." She nodded her head, knowing there was no further reason for her to be there. Without even sparing a look at the bundle of blankets on the doorstep, she turned on the spot and with a loud crack, she was gone.

Dumbledore stood for a moment alone, silently gazing upon Harry. It was a cruel turn of fate that had orphaned this tiny child just twenty-four hours before. It was a cruel turn of fate that had brought young Harry to the only home he had left—and an argument could made that it wasn't going to be much of a home for him. Dumbledore had never done anything lightly, no matter how it may have looked to outsiders. He knew exactly what kind of a life he was signing Harry up for. He shook his head painfully as he turned away and started walking down the street. There was no other option.


End file.
